Story of a Girl
by Sleepless Soul
Summary: dr/hr.. Hermione's life changes when Draco Malfoy moves into the neigborhood.. Riots, wolf whistles, wake up calls.. you name it, he'd do it..But is there a deeper feeling? r/r to find out!


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Disclaimer: 

The plot belongs to me, whereas the characters, to J.K. Rowling. _Mr. Johnson_, _Tim L. Napier_ and the book he wrote are fictionally crafted and by any means, do not pertain to any real _Mr. Johnson or Tim. L Napier_, whether alive or dead and just might be coincidentally true of my description if there ever were. Portia and Bassanio belong to William Shakespeare and are derived from _The Merchant of Venice_. Please Review if this story amazes you or strikes your fancy, I will not tolerate flames, either that or just don't read this at all. The pairing is **_Hermione/Draco. _**PG for some language.

[**Story of a Girl**]

**__**

Chapter One: 

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Second Time Around

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Love may not blossom, first time

But it will soon enough,

Your second time around…

Hermione slid into the slightly open doors of the bookstore as quietly as she could, controlling every movement with graceful ease, careful not to utter the faintest of noises, may it be a footstep or a whisper. It was a strange measure and not to be implemented so she could rob the whole place of books or anything out of the ordinary like that—all she needed was silence to be on her side that day so as not to startle old Mr. Johnson whose ears, though old age had come to linger, had ears as sharp as a hawk's. 

She didn't want him to go shouting and shooing her away again like before since he had a bad memory and might not remember her again (she should know). Sometimes she didn't want to come by anymore. The man was almost mad, if not for the last inch of sanity that was slowly withering away as he was, he'd talk to you one minute and would start yelling about thieves and cops! But maybe so that's just an exaggeration, after all, old people had this habit of becoming paranoid of everything, acquiring low resistance and becoming prone to diseases (_such as Alzheimer's_) and they probably didn't want to die sooner than they expect. 

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she made her way across the bookstore that smelled of mint followed by a little stench of …_rotting_? The bookstore was sub-par to bookstore standards; cobwebs lined a corner of the ceiling probably due to the fact that Mr. Johnson was too old to clean it or never really wanted to because he liked spiders, either way, it still decorated the ceiling. Four big oak shelves were side by side, dimly gray with old dust, on either side of the room two tables were arranged to read on, when or rather _if _someone stops by anyway. The sight that greeted the door was the counter with a little Indian statue on its table and usually a sleeping Mr. Johnson. 

Hermione was glad she wore a pair of faded jeans and a shirt with white sneakers to match that summer's day, talk about comfort—she didn't attract too much attention, not to mention made too much of a sound. 

She had mentally complained once or twice before that the floor was too hollow and creaky whenever she'd walk on or across it and that wasn't saying much for she had been wearing sandals then and was too noble to say her complaints aloud. 

Mr. Johnson had thought everyone coming in the store was a thief, and since the man reached the age of 60, had kept a six-pack gun under his belt, much to everyone's discomfort. He hasn't shot anyone, atleast not yet. And Hermione didn't want to demonstrate the reaction of a paranoid old man to a conspicuous-looking, _forgotten_ girl.

It must've been the slowly deteriorating material of the wood that was infested by termites, she thought as she painfully bit her tongue when the floor made a soft creaking sound. Hermione wouldn't be surprised if the thought proved true though, the store had stood there since her mother was a little girl, owned by Mr. Johnson and his wife before she had died of stroke, that was atleast 35 years ago if she had done her calculations correct. And come to think of if, the whole store might be not only termite-infested but probably hinted more pests than known to man. 

She pushed the thought away and halted in her tracks as she eyed an old man sitting behind the counter with a book propped open on his lap, his eyes half-open, half-closed behind wide-rimmed spectacles it scared her to think if he had stopped breathing or something. But she heaved a sigh of relief as she saw the slow rise and fall of his chest as he softly snored in his sleep, murmuring something about _Portia_ and _Bassanio_. She quietly smiled at him, one side of her lip curving upward, the other just as faint as her expression as she watched her favorite bookkeeper sleep like he always did.

The owner of the store, Mr. Johnson was an aging man in his 70's who had mostly slept through anything it wasn't a wonder if an earthquake would pass him by and leave, defeated that it had not panicked the hell out of him. His fingers were thin and bony (now presently on top of the book on his lap) and his hair almost gone except for the few threads that glittered silver and did a mere favor to his wrinkled head. He wasn't the grandpa type of old man who liked to mope around the house and complain about how his arthritis hurts or how children should watch more educational TV or really say anything a responsible, kill joy grandfather would. He was fun and his youth never died out, atleast till now. Maybe it's because he never had a son and his wife was never capable of bearing a child even before they got married that he wanted kids to love him as their father. 

When it had been a few years back, he would play baseball with the kids in the neighborhood or sometimes read them stories or give them treats when they'd stopped by occasionally. But that was when the inferior heart attack hadn't come yet. Hermione was grief-stricken that he was weaker now than he ever used to be, she had been one of those children he told stories to and tucked into bed when her parents weren't home, but that's old age. It was life—you live life and start off healthy, living it to the extreme only to wither away in time sickly and frail. She sadly sighed and edged deeper into the bookstore, wandering off to the shelf that held the newly arrived books.

She ran a finger though the books, browsing a little then strangely getting engrossed in the prologue of one particularly thick book that had actually she read a few pages. She had always been a fast reader so it wasn't surprising that when _he_ came along, casting light on her unawareness and ignorance he was peering down her shoulder, mimicking her thoughtfulness. The book was entitled 'Story of A Girl' obviously a love story written by Tim L. Napier. Hermione was more so disgusted by the thought of lovesick puppies and holding hands probably due to the fact that her heart broke more than once. She hated to think there were really perfect, though how quite fictional, couples that would last a lifetime but this one she found for some annoying reason she could never put down.

She closed the book, put it down back the shelf and placed a hand on top of it, shutting her eyes. She turned around; her eyes widening in shock as she met face to face with someone as unexpected as unwanted rain. "Hello there, Miss Hermione Granger," Draco drawled sadistically. "It's such a pleasant surprise to find you here." Hermione narrowed her eyes, her fists clenching and unclenching. "What the hell's you're problem Malfoy?!" she spat angrily. "Following me around, are you? Don't you know stalking is illegal or have you gotten so egotistical you let the thought be forgotten?!" 

Draco's face fell into a contorted expression; anger that mirrored Hermione's burned in his eyes. "Egotistical? I'm egotistical?" he threw his arms back to appeal to the ceiling and shook his head bitterly. 

"I'm not following you Granger, I would rather kiss Millicent Bulstrode's ass than stalk you. I live around, I just moved in, hell we might even be nei—" He was greeted by a hard slap on the face, courtesy of Hermione. 

He cradled his already-turned-red cheek in his hand and glared at the bushy brown-haired girl. He felt like throwing her an insult or two, give her a piece of his mind but then just burst out laughing coldly. Hermione flared up and noisily strode pass him, too preoccupied with her fury to remember she came in quiet and was now presently leaving annoyingly loud, her footsteps thudding harder against the creaking floor than needed, Mr. Johnson watching silently after her.

Tears welled up inside her eyes but she fought them not to come. Running from the store, the wind whipping against her face and drying the tears that watered in her eyes, her mind raced wildly. Was she that ugly? Maybe Ron and Dean had left her because of that. That was the very same reason she buried herself in books, the reason that she knew she had to get over the fact that she would not find the right one for her ever. She was doomed to spend her life alone, though how much painful that could sound, she knew somehow she had to accept what fate had given her.

She lost herself in a fantasy world were fairies exist and princesses and princes would end up snuggling together. But life is not all good, not full of fairies and it had its downward side and people would leave you and mock you for all your flaws—Just like Malfoy had. Hermione stopped, panting, half-sobbing, her hands on her knees. She blinked rapidly to lose the tears but found herself unable to. She stared into the glass window of a store, her reflection flushed and sobbing. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and so did her reflection. Her eyes were dull and lifelessly boring, her hair bushy and her figure not at all curved but straight. She frowned, so did her reflection. "I'm ugly.." she whispered desperately…

Draco felt bad for pissing the girl off, he hated to admit it but his snide comment really threw a punch at Granger, probably lifting her Malfoy-hate-rate up a notch. He wanted to run for her and apologize but being Draco Malfoy and all, he had to keep his decorum straight and show off a façade of iciness. Hey she hit you too, he thought to himself. He sighed as he stared at the book that had once been held by his enemy's friend. "Story of a Girl…" He read out sarcastically aloud, wondering how on earth someone could muster reading picture-less, dull books that will just end anyway and bother wasting their time when there are so many wonderful things in the world. And that book, who would want to read a pathetic story about a stupid girl anyway? Draco rolled his eyes and flipped through the pages, stopping briefly at the third chapter entitled _Bed of Roses._

"Trish held out her hand for the boy to pull. She smiled warmly up at him as she brushed his golden hair from his eyes…They… He…Hmm…" He stopped, reading silently this time finding this story intriguingly fascinating a concept.

"You should really go after her, you know. Is Hermione your girlfriend?" 

Draco turned around and closed the book, trying to hide the look of pure shock that was settling comfortably in him. "No." he said bluntly to the wrinkled old man who had managed to sneak behind him stealthily and disturbingly quietly. How the hell did he do that? He thought. One minute he was sleeping and the next…? "She's barely even a friend." He had said finally, springing back into reality and realizing the man knew more of his nemesis's friend than he did. (He actually knew her first name. )He wasn't surprised really; more impressed of his own ignorance that this man in front of him took time to know the brow-haired girl than he really did in 6 years. 

Mr. Johnson peered down at him from his glasses. "You should go after your girlfriend," he said stubbornly. "You might never get the chance to go after her again." 

Draco wondered if the man was deaf of old age or something but he tried ignoring him just the same. "She's not my pathetic girlfriend." He had said through gritted teeth but the old man barely even flinched and said nothing, maybe he was really deaf. "How much did you say this cost again?" He asked lifting the book to the bookkeeper's eye view. Maybe the man had an eye deficiency too. Mr. Johnson smiled. "Two forty-four." He replied. 

Draco fished some change out of his pocket but found he had none and looked shyly up at the bookkeeper. "Erm… Could we settle this…?" 

Mr. Johnson shook his head and laughed wholeheartedly, probably wholeheartedly for him because all that managed to come out of him was a fit of wheezes and for Draco that didn't count much. "Every friend of Hermione's, is a friend of mine as well…" He nodded and pursed his lips for a moment then pointed at the book. "For you my friend, I give that for free…"

Draco felt like slapping his forehead. This man had to be deaf, really he had to. He said Granger was not his girlfriend twice and the man had to really dumb not to understand English, though he himself was speaking the said language! Draco showed his gratitude in a frame that hid annoyance and animosity at the back of his head and showed nothing but blatant, innocent appreciation. Atleast he got the book anyway, not that he'd read but maybe a page or two could do the job. After all that was his original objective, to look around the place and buy something, atleast when he remembered to bring some dough anyway. 

He was lead out of the bookstore by Mr. Johnson and he strolled along the sidewalk to walk to his new house in 3rd Street Lane. Talk about tough luck. He was a stranger in this town, walking faceless to a stupid, old house that had just recently lost its _For Sale_ sign. No one knew him, how he was as cold as ice and sarcastic as hell. He missed his old town badly, that of which was inhabited by drug lords, evil wizards and old ladies, not that he had an attachment to them whatsoever. A dull, quiet place just wasn't his kind—his mother had this dumb idea of moving on peacefully, go blame it to the woman. _I bet she'd go stark raving mad here_, he thought chuckling to himself as he reached the black gates of the so-called Malfoy Manor. _I know I would just even for this summer_…

***

Hermione drummed her fingers against the coffee table as she waited impatiently for her mother's chicken salad to be done. She had pushed away the thoughts of Malfoy and how strangely she felt stung that he had gladly willed himself to kiss Millicent's ass than stalk her. She knew it was just a form of mockery but somehow she couldn't think of that right now. The question that buzzed in her mind was how the hell the boy had managed to reach her side of town. She had always thought the Malfoys lived in an all-wizard neighborhood, some place like Hogsmeade but probably darker and less happy. Maybe he got lost and couldn't find himself his way back, she thought wickedly, smiling to herself as she imagined him being beaten up by punks in the alleyway. 

"Honey, the salad's ready, go give this to the new neighbors the Malloys!" 

Hermione grabbed the bowl of chicken salad and headed out the door. "Who would marry someone with Malloy as their last name?" she asked herself aloud.

As she reached the said 'Malloys' place, placing a hand on the latch of their fully furnished door, knocking softly and gently, she was aware of the feeling of being watched. She glanced nervously around, the house was so big it gave her the creeps, the thought that the house might be haunted scared her off worse than ever. She placed the bowl on the floor and knocked again, still there was no answer. She felt eyes trailing up and down and back, staring at her from behind. She shut her eyes, opened them and gathered all her strength to speak, ignoring the sense of paranoia washing over her. 

"Hello?" she said, peering through the window but seeing nothing but boxes strewn across the floor and a few other fancy pieces of furniture. She was about to give up the whole knocking thing and barge into the house herself, though how that may be rude, when she felt strong hands wrapping tightly around her waist from behind, firmly pulling her against the force. She gave out a small gasp as she felt lips kissing her in the back of her neck and a strong panicked reflex took over and she struggled to be set free.

"Let go! Let go!" she kicked him in the leg and he burst out laughing as if her situation was anything that could be laughed about. The grip tightened, still not losing its firmness as she felt herself being…_hugged_? Hermione stopped as she was finally freed from the intruder's arms. She turned around and blushed a shade of red as she saw Draco Malfoy, clutching his stomach in a fit of laughter. She glared at him and pointed with her foot to the bowl of chicken salad on the floor. "I came to give our new neighbors some food and you have this nasty idea of following me all the way? What the hell's wrong with you?" 

Malfoy continued laughing until he was wheezing on the floor. "Granger, you, fool, we're you're new neighbors!" 

Hermione rolled his eyes. No one calls her a fool, especially not him. "You're not a Malloy are you?" she said rather arrogantly. Draco stopped laughing and a did his best to keep a straight face, whatever he'd do just to piss this _beauty_ off. She looked so worried a second ago, so pretty and… he stopped. _What the_…? _Pretty_? "Are you then?!" Hermione yelled, red with embarrassment or anger, maybe both. Draco looked at her calmly. "No, but I am a Malfoy."

Hermione crossed her arms on her chest. "_Oh_? And you think I'm not aware of that?!"

Draco shook his head and caressed Hermione's face with his finger, which he reflexively drew away with a slap. He laughed bitterly. 

"My dear, princess, what do you think sounds so much like 'Malloy'? You know, muggles can be _so_ deaf really. They had actually mistaken our unstained surname for Malloy, can you believe that?! Malloy?! Such mockery! " Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't believe you," she said coolly, a superior look coming by her features and then dropping swiftly as it came when Draco grinned stupidly. "Not until I see proof anyway," Draco smiled and pinched Hermione's nose before opening the front door and yelling inside. "Do not ever touch me again, or you'll have my fist in contact with your face!" she yelled at him, kicking him in the foot. He ignored her completely.

After a few seconds, a mirror of Draco's, only an older female version, came walking out to smile at them. She wore a simple, satin dress and her beautiful, long blonde hair, tied neatly in a ponytail, gave beauty to bless her with gray eyes like someone Hermione strangely felt she knew. "Mother, meet Hermione Granger," Draco smiled at the lady, gesturing to Hermione. "She's a friend from school and she leaves down the block." Hermione's mouth hung open, a _friend_ from school_, how the hell did he know she lived down the block_? _Hermione!?_ _What the hell happened to Granger?_ _How come he remembers her first name when all the while, he called her by her last_?! She was more like a fiend to be precise, but then she really didn't hate him at all, he just loved to piss her off so much, she snapped so very quickly. The said moment left her nauseatingly disoriented. 

Hermione reached out to shake Mrs. Malfoy's (or so she was told) hand but the woman just smiled warmly at her and hugged her instead. Shock and disbelief swallowed her at that moment, as thoughts buzzed around her head. _Is this Malfoy's mom_? She's too…well, _nice_ to deserve such a brat like him, an opposite of everything he is ! She always thought Draco's parents were the jewelry-wearing type of parents, atleast that's what she saw in the World Cup, but the person claiming to be Malfoy's mother cast a shadow to the cold boy she knew. But then again Hermione really didn't know anything about the boy so she couldn't judge if he was such an ass at home as he was in school. 

"Draco's friend huh?" she said after they parted. She sighed and looked from her son to her. "I think I remember you a little, the one with the Weasleys and Harry in the Quidditch World Cup if I'm not mistaken? Yes? Such a shame we didn't get to meet, Draco, as you can see is the anti-social type so I actually doubted if he knew you!" Draco raised a brow and looked away. _Too much information, mother_! He thought coldly.

"Anyway," she wiped a bead of sweat that was forming in her forehead. "I'm cleaning the whole house, the house elves are still being transported here, my husband Lucius, I think you know him?" Hermione nodded numbly. "—well, he's working on it, for all I know. Maybe we could invite you over for dinner tonight? My husband would be very pleased to meet you. He may seem like a very stressed out man, but at home, well he's a swell husband and a father, if you don't mind my saying so!" She cast a deadly look at Draco who she caught mimicking her. 

"Hermione, dinner tonight?" Hermione licked her bottom lip and coughed a little, hinting to Draco to save her from the current situation. But he just raised his brow in a sly arch as if to say, _hell, that's your problem, woman_. Hermione glared at him and made a mental not to strangle him dead later on. She turned to her problem. "Well, sure, Mrs. Malfoy, we'd gladly come." She said in her best polite voice. Mrs. Malfoy sighed in happiness. "I have to go now and clean. See you at 7 then?" she said before disappearing into the house. "At 7 it is," Hermione said to herself as she watched Mrs. Malfoy climb up the stairs. 

Draco picked up the bowl of ignored chicken salad and sniffed . "That's my mother," he told her. "So will you show me around, Granger? To your favourite places I mean?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "No." she said before leaving. Draco rushed into the house and jogged after her, this time without the bowl. "Hey, Grange, don't ditch me!" Hermione kept on walking in giant strides, ignoring the boy. "I'd be more than honoured to!" she said through gritted teeth. Draco chuckled to himself and walked infront of Her, backwards. "Come on, show me around!" he persisted, poking her in the shoulder. Hermione glared at him for the umpteenth time that day, she opened her mouth to speak but closed it again as she found she had nothing to say. "Granger, I love you soooooooo much, don't leave me! I'd die, please!!!!!!!!" Draco had already stopped in her tracks and Hermione had kept on going. She halted though and turned to face him who was a couple of yards away from her. "Sod off, my case, Malfoy!" Draco walked towards her and waved his arms in front of him. "Gee, I'm sorry Granger, don't take this the wrong way, but hell, I was just kidding! Show me around, won't you? We'd be spending some time around each other, try as you may you can never avoid it! We live in the same neighborhood, for Pete's sake! Come on, be a little nice for once, Potter wouldn't know anyway!" 

Hermione's blood boiled, her eyes flashing in anger. "Nice?!" she spat. "You want me to be nice?! Well, look at yourself first before telling someone to be _nice_! You're so big headed and insensitive that no one wants to be around you! Don't you understand, you could have been my friend, but not now, you blew the chance because you think you can manipulate peoples' minds and ruin their lives just because you want to!" She released all her frustration and slapped him hard on the face. 

Draco, for once, looked hurt. He stared at the ground and kicked the dirt with his boot. "Sorry…" he said inaudibly. Hermione was panting hard and she buried her face in her hands. "No, look, I should be the one to apologize… I-I…" "No you're right." Draco looked up and moistened his lips. "You shouldn't ask for my forgiveness, I should be the one to ask for yours…" 

Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded. _Was that Malfoy_? "I'll show you around." She said before taking his hand and leading him somewhere.

***

"I don't like this place." Draco said after surveying the view of the town, his hands on his hips. After a few minutes of bickering and ignoring each other, the two had finally reached their destination. It was a slope of land, probably a steep hill that was a little further off north of the town and overlooked its view.

Draco was staring down at the blurry town, the rooftops looked like rainbow coloured specs scattered in the green below, some actually puffing smoke out of their little red chimneys. A beautiful scenery of a peaceful, not to mention _dull_ place. He would've thought it was fascinating if not for the fact that there was nothing left to see but stupid rooftops and trees.

It felt boring up there, watching as other people lived peacefully while all the while you lived in a chaotic town that you had just recently left. 

Here there was nothing to do, nowhere to go to, unless you count the orphanage. Draco wondered how those people down there managed to keep his sanity; perhaps he could ask some tips?

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Probably watching the clouds or counting grass was a made a hobby by the inhabitants here, he thought sarcastically. 

The wind blew richly against his face and Draco turned to Hermione who was watching him warily under the shade of a tree. "I don't like it either…" She looked at the pole of the town's church and leaned her head against the tree. "Up here you can forget everything, listen to the calmness that surrounds you, that confronts you. But it can get pretty—"

"Boring?" Draco suggested.

Hermione rolled her eyes but continued anyway. "It gets a little sad. You, up here all alone watching as other people are having fun, as they love each other and here you are witnessing all of that unfolding in your eyes, witnessing it yes, but not feeling it.. It's no wonder why only a few people come up here to see the view…"

"Why'd you bring me here then?" Draco asked, eyes on her. 

"Because it's my least favourite place and you're my least favourite person; you two are very much compatible…" 

Draco frowned. "I said I was sorry." Hermione's lips curled into a thin smile and Draco desperately held onto that sight. She was so beautiful when she smiled… Thoughts circled in his mind. It was the thought he had despised long ago, Hermione was beautiful, he had liked her even before. He shook the thought away and looked back the town. 

"Atleast I brought you somewhere, be thankful enough, Mr. Malfoy…" 

"I am thankful, Miss Granger…" Draco said as he stood next to her. "I thank thee from the bottom of my heart…" He closed the small gap between and placed a pale hand on her cheek. "Everything here is beautiful."

Draco was slowly leaning forward; his eyes shutting close as he drew nearest to Hermione.

"Don't kiss me," She said desperately. 

"I won't."

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He lied…

TBC…

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Note: Review if you may, I'd appreciate that, thank you very much. You might want to click that button down there, if you want to hear more from me. I'm not asking for much, just reviews, I might delete this when I have nothing to do, I can be really indecisive sometimes and my mind changes faster than the speed of light so hope for the best that I'd continue this… 


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